Monday, October 24, 2011

Día de los Muertos: Mesoamerican Roots

It is mid-October. Mexico's annual remembrance of the Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) is fast approaching. This is our fourth autumn in Mexico. It has taken me this long to gain even a basic understanding of the rich cultural context that gives meaning to this powerful annual ritual whose roots extend deep into the cultural soil of Mesoamerica.

So let's start at the beginning. We have written about the vital role of geography in Mexico's cultural and political development. Mexico's vulnerability to the vicissitudes of natural phenomena—volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, cyclones from the Pacific, hurricanes from the Caribbean and Atlantic, floods and drought—conveyed to the land's early inhabitants a keen awareness that they were not in charge; in fact, they were at the mercy of la naturalezza (forces of nature).

World of Spirit and World of Nature

In their book, The Masks of the Spirit, Roberta and Peter Markman describe the theology underlying the Mesoamerican world view:
"Rather than imagining a god separate from his creation, the thinkers of Mesoamerica conceived of the divine as the life-force itself, constantly creating, ordering, sustaining, destroying and recreating the world" (p. 111).
Again the Markmans:
"Creation is seen in a series of organic metaphors that bring together seeds and bones, the sun and birth, man and plants in a complex web of meaning that suggests the equivalence of all life in the world of the spirit—a web of meaning that sustains the world of nature. Life in this world, the myth suggests, must be understood in terms of that underlying spirit." [emphasis added]
In Mesoamerican culture, then, the world of spirit, mysterious and inaccessible, was synonymous with the Life-Force, while the world of nature inevitably ended in death. Permanence was found in the world of spirit; the world of nature offered ceaseless change culminating in death, but a death that nonetheless offered passage to the world of spirit.

Addressing this theme, an Aztec poet wrote,
Let us consider things as lent to us, O friends,
only in passing are we here on earth,
tomorrow or the day after,
as Your heart desired, Giver of Life,
we shall go, my friends, to His home.
The conclusion is inescapable: beyond is the place where one lives. To the poet, permanence was to be found in the world of spirit; this world offered nothing more than flux ending in death.

The great question for Mesoamerican thinkers was to explain how the gap between the two worlds was to be bridged—put differently, how the existence of life and spirit was to be reconciled. Though life is transitory, humans nonetheless had to be enabled to participate in a ritual relationship with the source of the spirit (Life-Force) that animates human activity.

Their solution was a creator god who had no other characteristic than creativity itself. Located in the center of the world of spirit, he was known as Ometeotl (literally, two-god) by the Aztecs and Hunab Kuh by the Maya.

Rarely represented in figural form, Ometeotl played little part in ritual. But as the dual, bisexual god who ruled over the highest heaven of the Nahuatl cosmos, Ometeotl embodied a key Mesoamerican principle: duality, which recognizes the interdependence of opposites (light-dark, night-day, life-death, order-disorder, etc.). In China, this principle is yin and yang.

Creation Myths of Mesoamerica

The creation myths of various Mesoamerican people are more explicit tales that link this underlying duality to the creation of humans and the maintenance of their daily life. They are efforts to transform the vulnerability of their communities—completely dependent on the planting and harvesting of maíz, corn—into a secure realm.

Here's how the Maya document, the Popul Vuh, describes the creation of first man and first woman:
And so then they put into words
        the Creation,
        the shaping
        of our first mother and father.
Only yellow corn
        and white corn were their bodies.
Only food were the legs
And arms of man. 
                                     Popul Vuh
The myth makes explicit the dependence of human welfare on successful corn crops. First mother and father, in fact, are themselves made of corn. By extension, as sons and daughters of corn, so is the current community made of the corn they take in.

In the Aztec (Méxica) creation myth (Aztec Cosmovision: Stone of Five Suns), the gods must try five times to successfully produce beings capable of speech—and thus capable of praising the gods. In the creation of the Fifth Sun, Quetzalcóatl (Plumed Serpent) and a brother god descend to the Underworld to retrieve the bones of the previous population. Once back on the earth's surface, they grind the bones like corn and sprinkle the bone meal with their own blood to create today's people.

But even after the creation of people, there is still no sun. The gods meet in darkness gathered around a great fire at Teotihuacan. Two gods volunteer to throw themselves into the fire in order to create the Fifth Sun. One god is beautiful and haughty; the other is diseased and lowly.

The lowly god doesn't hesitate to throw himself upon the pyre when its heat is strongest but the haughty god hesitates, so the fire is less intense when he jumps. In this way, the lowly god who did not hesitate to sacrifice himself becomes the sun, and the haughty god who hesitated becomes the moon.

This sacrifice of the gods for humans at the moment of creation establishes the central idea that humans, reciprocally, are expected to sacrifice to the gods in order to assure the continued survival of the community.

The Cycle of the Sun: Birth, Death and Rebirth

Mesoamericans perceived the cosmos as centered on the human world, around which the sun revolved in its daily cycle, rising to the zenith of Heaven, then descending into night and the Underworld.

My favorite depiction of this spatial arrangement is at Toniná, in Chiapas, where the central staircase (horizontal stones at the center) represents the axis mundi connecting the Earthly plane (in the middle) to Heaven above and the Underworld below:
Spatial representation of Cosmovision at Toniná 
  • Heaven (inverted pyramid above), with its thirteen levels; 
  • Earthly plane (horizontal band at midpoint); and the 
  • Underworld ( lower pyramid), with its nine levels. 
The god Ometéotl resided at the highest level of Heaven. The Underworld existed below the surface of the earth and was accessible through caves and springs.

The sun’s path was understood to begin at sunrise in the East and to pass through thirteen levels, or stations—six up to Heaven’s zenith at station seven, before descending through six more stations, for a total of thirteen. At sunset the sun begins its passage down through the nine levels, or stations, of the Underworld—passing its nadir at midnight before beginning its ascent of four more stations culminating in next day's dawn. Including the stations at the level of the earth—sunrise and sunset—the sun’s daily journey covered twenty-four stations, comparable to our own 24-hour day.

The passage of the sun through the Underworld was deemed perilous. Sunrise was not guaranteed—instead, ever present was the possibility that the sun might be devoured by the gods of the night and fail to rise. This primal fear led to various sacrificial rituals designed to assure the successful daily return of the sun. The essential duality—day-night; light-dark—is perhaps the most basic duality in Mesoamerican thought.

Passage of the Deceased through the Underworld

When humans died, it was believed that all but a few had to follow the night sun’s path and travel for a year through the Underworld before reuniting with the Life-Force in the Heavens. Warriors who died in battle and women who died in child birth went straight to Heaven.

The rituals of Dia de los Muertos address this Underworld journey of the deceased. Later posts relate preparations for Día de los Muertos and its ritual observances. For more information about books cited here, see Best Reads.


Día de los Muertos: Preparations

Not surprisingly, the roots of the annual observance of Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) extend deep into the soil of Mesoamerican culture. The following narrative relies on photos taken and experiences enjoyed over the three years we lived in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, home to the Purhépecha people.

Before the arrival of the Spanish, the Purhépecha empire was a large one, extending north and west of Lake Pátzcuaro. In their time, they were unconquered in wars waged annually with the Mexica (Aztecs) to the east, yet when the Purhépechas saw their enemy's fate at the hands of Cortés, they surrendered to the Spanish without a fight.

Today the Purhépecha people reside in  pueblos surrounding Lake Pátzcuaro and on the Meseta (Highlands) west of Pátzcuaro.

Día de los Muertos is perhaps best understood in the broader context of the Mesoamerican cosmovision (see earlier post). Here's what a useful short book of Pátzcuaro's legends has to say about Día de los Muertos [my translation]:
"For [the Purhépecha] death was not something that provoked fear; on the contrary, it was treated as a natural process that fulfills man's purpose, who therefore during life prepares himself for death. 
"This view of death is one of the basic elements in the cosmogony [worldview] of the ancient peoples, who believed that death is a form of the continuity of life. 
"The Mexicas [Aztecs] were considered the people of death. Their philosophy of mortality and immortality was expressed in various poems that describe life as only a passing state, but death as rebirth—it is to live forever. 
"Consider this poem of Netzahualcóyotl, who lived between 1391 and 1471—dying fifty years before the arrival of the Spanish in 1519:
We are mortal
all of us have to depart,
all of us have to die on the earth...
Like a painting,
we are erased [from the earth].
Like a flower,
we depart drying
here above the earth ...
Consider this, mighty lords of eagles and tigers,
although you might be of jade,
although you might be of gold,
you also will go there
to the place of rest."

Dulces in the Mercado 

Preparations begin early in October. As calabazas (pumpkins) begin to appear in the mercado, dulce vendors set up their tables under the Portal on the Plaza de Vasco de Quiroga (Plaza Grande).

Tables of Dulces set up under the Portal, 
Plaza Vasco de Quiroga, Pátzcuaro, Michoacán

Touristsnot just foreign but Mexican as wellvisit Pátzcuaro during Día de los Muertos, where the Island of Janitzio is deemed to be the ultimate destination.


Rows of sugar-sculpted Angelitos (Little Angels)
Calaveras (Skulls) de Chocolate
Coffins with skeleton; pulling a string that comes out at the foot of the coffin causes the skeleton to rise up and peer out of the coffin — delightful example of the playful mockery of death that characterizes these dulces
Elegant señor and señora — the attention to detail is astounding.
¡Viva México! is printed in tiny red letters on the topside of el señor's sombrero

Preparations in Casa and Pantéon (House and Cemetery)

But preparations for Día de los Muertos involve much more than Pátzcuaro's famed dulces market. Before the Spanish arrived, Día de los Muertos was observed in the Pantéon. This practice was tolerated by the first Spanish missionaries, whose conversion strategy was to interpret indigenous religious beliefs as incomplete but that were, nonetheless, on the road leading to full expression in the Catholic religion with Christ on the Cross.  

The indigenous were allowed to celebrate their ancient fiestas  (marking the seasons), but the missionaries reinterpreted those fiestas as events occurring on the Catholic liturgical calendar. Hence, Día de los Muertos is linked with All Saints Day. Thus rose the syncretism — creative fusion of indigenous and Catholic beliefs — quite evident in today's observances.

In the seventeenth century, the Spanish elite banned all fiestas as 'pagan'. In response, the indigenous moved their observances from the Panteón to the privacy of their own houses. In the twentieth century, after the Mexican Revolution, the 1917 Constitution banned all religious fiestas outside the church. Subsequently, this ban was lifted in response to popular pressure. Today observances are held in private homes and in the cemeteries.

On November 1, families may build ofrendas in their homes or decorate graves with offerings of flowers, candles and food (fruit and bread). They then keep vigil part or all of the night. On the morning of November 2, the food is shared with everyone present.

Two Days of Observances

Fall is the time for the marigolds to bloom. Familiar with marigolds as a border flower in the garden, we were puzzled by orange flowers blooming profusely in fields that stretch forever — marigolds are native to Mexico! Oh, and did I mention the pink Cosmos that also grow wild in the fields and bloom in October?

The panteón in Tzurumútaro, just down the road from our house, has a rich and beautiful tradition of Día de los Muertos observances.

Pickup truck loaded with cempasuchitl, marigolds

The flowers: gold for Heaven, white for purity, red for life

Marigold vendors

As Día de los Muertos approached, our housekeeper, Evangelina, began describing the rituals to us. The former owner of our house had died during the past year. Clearly, she felt a need to honor his death. As she remarked to me,
"So many people have passed through this house in the thirty years I have worked here; who knows what has happened to all of them; it is important to honor them."
Evangelina's husband is Purhépecha, and Tzurumútaro is their pueblo, so it seemed natural for us to focus our attention on Tzurumútaro. With Evangelina's help, we laid out this ofrenda (offering):



We went to town to buy a traditional white lace mantel and the flowers (orange marigolds, white bridal veil, and dried red flowers). Candles guide the spirits to the ofrenda. Evangelina was adamant that the candles not be allowed to go out for the forty-eight hours of November 1 and 2 — a challenge and responsibility I am pleased to report we fulfilled.

Our ofrenda had almost all the essential elements. Water is deemed essential for the spirit's journey through the Underworld (white pitcher), as is salt (little dish in front). Other liquids, such as tequila or cerveza may also be laid out. Fruit and bread provide sustenance to the spirits during their visit.

Only later did I realize that the ofrenda lacked photographs of the departed. But not to worry — Día de los Muertos observances were just getting started.

Still Curious?

Related Jenny's Posts:
See also, Jenny's Page, Best Reads.

Día de los Muertos: Ritual Observances

Third in a three-part series devoted to Día de los Muertos#1 explores the ritual's roots in Mesoamerican culture; #2 explores Día de los Muertos preparations undertaken in Pátzcuaro, Michoacánthis third post describes our experiences both the night of November 1 and the Day of November 2: Día de los Muertos. 
Night: November 1 

Panteón (Cemetery)

It is difficult to find words to communicate adequately the mood we encountered at the Panteón of Tzurumútaro, our neighboring pueblo, when we arrived at about 8:00 PM the night of November first.

Our first impression was overwhelmingly visual. The Panteón was bathed in a suffuse amber light created by hundreds of candles lighting thousands of marigolds. Our second impression was olfactory as we detected the unmistakable fragrance of copal burning as incense.
Candles and marigolds bathed the Panteón in an amber glow,
reminiscent of candlelight services in Christian churches
Imagine being envelopedsurrounded 360-degrees
by lights, flowers and the fragrance of burning copal
As our eyes adjusted to the light and our beings aligned themselves with what we saw and felt unfolding before us, we became aware of more than candles, copal and marigolds.

We became aware of people—families—keeping vigil. Renowned Mexican-American professor of religion (Harvard Divinity School) David Carrasco tells us that the vigil is called Xochatl in Nahuatl and La Llorada (the Weeping) in Spanish. It is the time when the living and dead join together as a vital spiritual community.

It is believed that the souls of departed family members travel down through the Underworld before ascending to Heaven to become part of the Life-Force. It is also believed that on this one night, departed spirits return to communicate with still-living family. Hence, these patient vigils:
The living reassure the dead that they will remember and nurture them in their daily lives; reciprocally, the spirits of the dead reassure the living of their continued protection.
Those keeping vigil in the Panteón spoke respectfully in low, conversational tones. Their voices were comfortable, matter-of-fact. A taken-for-granted quality—"of course, this is how it is"—permeated the Panteón. We felt quietly reassured.
Mother and daughter pay their respects
Women keeping vigil 
Woman keeping vigil
Finally, perhaps, as we stepped carefully through the Panteón—avoiding tree roots and graves, we gradually became aware of what seemed to us to be incongruities—evidence of synchretism, including details characteristic of Halloween in the United States.
We took a double-take at this candle-lit skull above a simple cross
Three lighted pumpkin skulls--or jack-o-lanterns?
But again and again, we found ourselves drawn to the numerous family groups patiently, comfortably keeping vigil.
Family keeping vigil 
Carrasco observes,
"What is outstanding ... is the belief that one's life on this earth is dependent, in part, on treating the dead well. People believe that if the dead are not worshiped, nurtured, and remembered in the proper manner, their own economic security, family stability and health will be in jeopardy. Therefore, careful and generous preparations are carried out" (p. 144).
This belief is compatible with the responsibilities of humans toward their gods as set forth in the Aztec creation myth (see earlier post).  At the core are interlocking sets of reciprocal relationships; each does for the other.
The gods created man and the natural world; humans nurture and praise the gods. Present-day humans are here because of the efforts of those who have gone before; hence, today's humans are bound to honor the role of the ancestors in making possible those who are alive today.
Private Home 

After our time in the Panteón, we drove to a second pueblo nearby. Our driver, Abrám, knew our interests, but we were still startled when he stopped abruptly in front of a house with its doors open. He got out of the car and spoke briefly with a man standing in front of the house.

Upon returning, he announced that we could visit this family. The grandmother had died during the past year, and the family had erected an ofrenda for her.

The ground floor of the house was an open space—large enough to park two or even three cars. At the back of this space was the ofrenda shown below:
Seven-tiered ofrenda honoring the family's grandmother, 
who had died in the past year; her framed photo appears
on the sixth (next to the last) tier.
Carrasco writes that within the family's house, the ofrenda or altar serves as the axis mundi (world axis connecting the earthly plane with Heaven above and the Underworld below) centering the family's ritual and ceremonial life. The 'cornucopia of goods' represents the quest for fertility and the renewal of relations with dead family members and friends.
A friend adds her offering to the
'cornucopia' of fruit on the altar
But, adds Carrasco, the overall image is of a 'Mountain of Sustenance' that orients and nourishes the family community. He is referring is to the Mesoamerican ceremonial pyramids that symbolized rain, fertility and the 'container of the most valued supernatural powers'. In part, concludes Carrasco, Día de los Muertos altars and ofrendas symbolize the body of the life-giving earth with its forces of regeneration.

Meanwhile, in this modest house in a small pueblo, four or five long tables had been set up in front of the altar and along the side walls. We were invited to join other guests at a table. As we learned later, we were at the table for fuereños y  extranjeros  (Mexicans not from Pátzcuaro and foreigners). Pozole and tamales were brought to us, as were thimbles of tequila.

This unexpected hospitality at what we assumed to be a deeply private family moment was unnerving. People from the pueblos generally don't have extra money, yet here was not only a lavish ofrenda but a lavish spread extended even to total strangers.

Carrasco provides the key:  In Mexico, where poverty is widespread, efforts expended for Día de los Muertos are undertaken with a sense of sacrifice on behalf of the family. This core value—sacrifice to assure survival of the family—is deeply rooted in the cultural soil of Mesoamerica.

Morning: November 2

Abrám arrived at about 10 AM and drove us to Ihuatzio, a nearby pueblo on the shores of Lake Pátzcuaro.  The gate of the Panteón was covered with marigolds:


As we walked through the gate, the visual contrast to the previous night is stunning and immediate. Bathed in strong sunlight, the profusion of flowers softens the tired specter of spent candles.




Exhausted after their all-night vigils, nonetheless the people remain sitting quietly...performing the rituals that renew their relationships with the antepasados—those who have passed before.


The dominant ritual on the Morning of November 2  is the generous sharing of bread and fruit. Reed reminds me that bread, of course, comes from Europe. Introduced by the Spanish, wheat is another example of cultural diffusion. Pan de Muerte appeared on large trays laden with various kinds of fruit.
Pan de Muerte (Bread of Death) in the
shape of a human figure with crossed arms
Pan de Muerte symbolizes the reciprocal relationship between humans and death:
 We feed the dead, and the dead feed us.

Because of our ignorance at the time, we found this generous hospitality unsettling. In an earlier post, I quoted Gustavo Esteva about the role of hospitality in Mesoamerican culture:

"For the people know that hospitality is not only a condition for survival, it is also the only way to live." 

Día de los Muertos observances, then, are centered on honoring and renewing reciprocal relationships with family members and friends who have passed before. These ritual observances reaffirm peoples roots with their ancestors by recognizing the eternal, complementary and reciprocal cycles—the essential unity—of life and death. It is a time of reflection, communal sharing and celebration of life past and present.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Here we go again—Doomsday October 21, 2011

"Mark your calendars: The world is ending this Friday, October 21, 2011," so begins an NPR story running today (October 18, 2011).

The NPR piece continues, "This announcement comes from Harold Camping, the doomsday prophet who said Judgment Day would come on May 21, 2011."
Catherine Wessinger marked her calendar. She's an expert on doomsday groups at Loyola University in New Orleans and editor of The Oxford Handbook of Millennialism. She says she's seen this before.
No matter what, Wessinger says doomsday movements will always be with us because they play into a primal fear. "We don't want to suffer and we don't want to die," Wessinger says.

Doomsday movement promise escape from the human condition.

Next up, says Wessinger: December 21, 2012—when the Maya calendar seems to indicate the world will end.

Hmm—not exactly. The end of baktun 13 will indeed occur on December 21, 2012, but it marks the end of a baktun—, which occurs only once approximately every four hundred years, not the end of history itself.

Still Curious?

Here's the link to the NPR story that prompted this post: http://www.npr.org/2011/10/18/141427151/doomsday-redux-prophet-says-world-will-end-friday

Here's the link to an earlier Jenny's post debunking the so-called Maya doomsday prediction: http://jennysmexico.blogspot.com/2011/10/maya-prediction-doomsday-2012.html

Here's the link to an article that appeared first in the Mexican newspaper Milenio, which features an interview with National Autonomous University of Mexico Researcher Erik Velásquez García in which this scholar explains the erroneous assumptions on which the "New Age" prophecy so-called is based (my translation from the Spanish):  http://jennysmexico.blogspot.com/2012/03/unam-researcher-debunks-maya-end-of.html




Saturday, October 15, 2011

Rebozos in Michoacán and Elsewhere in Mexico

As I've written before, Evangelina, our housekeeper, and I invariably began our day together leaning against the counter to chat while we drank a cafecito.

This day was special.  Never was Evangelina's highly refined sense of play more evident than as she began describing rebozos, "Our rebozos are our third hand; whatever we need to do, our rebozos help us with our work."

What is a rebozo?

Rebozos are shawls worn by Mexican women of all social classes, but especially by women from the countryside. Rebozos are worn draped around the shoulders—sometimes covering the head, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Here's Evangelina's playful litany of uses of the rebozo, along with her commentary:

This señora is wearing the classic rebozo from Michoacán; she had the cargo (charge) for maintaining a chapel we visited on the Purhépecha Meseta outside Pátzcuaro.


Need to carry your baby? Wrap him in your rebozo  and carry him on your back. Your hands are still free to do your work.   Need to carry firewood or bring crops in from the field?  Carry anything at all on your back the same way you carry your baby."  
Disgracefully, we failed to photograph campesina (countrywomen) walking along the dirt lane that passed in front of our house just outside Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, bent over from the weight of carrying large bundles of firewood wrapped in their rebozos.
"Need a sombrero because the sun too strong?  Fold your rebozo and put it on your head.
Need a belt?  That's easywrap your rebozo around your waist!"
Going to the market? Baby wrapped in rebozo leaves hands free to select and carry purchases. 
A Purhépecha friend told me that when the women raise their rebozos to cover their  mouthsand sometimes their nosesthey are seeking protection from cold air, which is believed to be unhealthy. Note the woman in the left background wearing a black rebozo covering her head, nose and mouth. Or, added my friend, they may be gossipingbehind the rebozo, no one can see who is speaking.

Social Customs Surrounding the Rebozo

By now Evangelina realized that I was enthralled. Perhaps that's why she grew more serious as she explained that as she was getting ready to marry nearly fifty years ago, her father-in-law took her aside.  He explained that she must always have two rebozos—one for household tasks, and one for going afuera (outside) the house.

Then he continued, "If you don't have shoes, that's okay but you must always have a good rebozo, because your rebozo says to the world, 'I am a respectable woman'."

As Evangelina continued speaking, I recall that she had mentioned more than once how important it was for me to wear a rebozo when we visit the remote Purhépecha pueblos on the Meseta (high plateau outside Pátzcuaro). In her world, wearing a rebozo demonstrates respect.

I have heeded her advice. Now that I think about it, my rebozo may explain why women have felt comfortable in striking up conversations with me, which has happened frequently.

Group of women resting in front of the church in Nuria on the Purhépecha Meseta (Michoacán) 
The rebozo's role as a symbol of respectability sets the context for a man's role vis-a-vis his wife's rebozo. Evangelina's prospective father-in-law explained the man's responsibility like this, "If a man cannot tapar (cover) his woman, then he is no man at all."

This man has clearly fulfilled his responsibility to his wife
Where did the Rebozo come from?

The rebozo originates in Asia, where the dervishes and priests of ancient Persia, covered themselves with a type of manta or "xal"—a word transformed in Spanish to “chal”. Interestingly, in Spain it was used as both an overcoat and adornment whose seductive properties were duly noted.
Dama con chal c. 1900 España
It bears repeating that the Moors (North Africans who carried the Persian culture dominated by Islam) occupied the Iberian Peninsula for almost 800 years (710-1492 CE). Across those centuries, artistic and cultural elements from Persia were incorporated into what became Spanish culture.

In 1492, the Catholic Monarchs Ferdinand and Isabel—expansive after their final defeat of the Moors in Grenada—were receptive to funding Cristopher Columbus's expedition to sail West in search of a shorter trade route to Asia.

Popularized in Spain as the manta, this thick woolen cape was first brought to Nueva España (México) by Spanish soldiers under Cortés, who insisted that his men marry the indigenous women with whom they coupled. These marriages undoubtedly intensified pressures to develop appropriate clothing befitting the wives of the Spanish elite in Nueva España. 

The thick Spanish mantle was thus ‘mexicanized’ by combining it with elements of the Mesoamerican tilma (cloak/cape).
Maya nobleman wearing tilma

Aztec Noblewoman wearing tilma 
Perhaps even more importantly, Spanish galleons brought sheep from Spain to grow wool and Chinese silk from Manila. Over time silk and wool were added to the cotton favored by indigenous weavers before the arrival of the Spanish.   

In 1582 the Ordinances of the Royal Audiencia (government) of Nueva España prohibited Negro women, mulatas (Spanish-Negro women, slaves on the hemp and sugar plantations on the Yucatán Peninsula) or mestiza (Spanish-Indigenous women) from wearing the chal

The women circumvented the prohibition by redesigning the chal. They changed the garment's size—making it longer and wider—and began dying them indigo with white and pale blue stripes. 

The new rebozo gained widespread acceptance because women whose heads were uncovered were denied access to Mass celebrated in the churches, which thus increased demand for the rebozo.

Purhépecha women kneeling outside a church keeping vigil
In Mexico, then, apace with these changes, the Spanish "chal" gave way to the word rebozo, which comes according to various sources, either from the verb rebozarse "to muffle or cover" or from the verb arrebozarse or “to cover the face with a cape or mantle.”

By the 18th c. the rebozo was in widespread use among the women of Nueva España. About the rebozo, the second Count of Revillagigedo writes: “[All the women] wear it without exception, even the nuns, even the most elegant and rich women—even those from the humblest and poorest pueblos (villages). They use [the rebozo] like a mantilla, like a shawl, [they wear it] on promenades and even in the house; they wrap the rebozo around their shoulders; they put it on their heads; they cover themselves with it and tie it around their bodies…”.

Demure señorita with head covered by a rebozo from Santa Maria del Rio (San Luis Potosí).
Over the years, weavers in Mexico’s diverse regions have individualized their rebozos by creating their own styles and colors. For example, the rebozo in Michoacán is characterized by horizontal lines. Oaxaca and Puebla are home to the classic rebozo known as “de bolita” recognized throughout the Mexican Republic. 

Elegant Rebozos

At the highest levels of Mexican society, women don exquisite rebozos intricately woven from silk.

Elegant señorita models an intricately woven rebozo Santa Maria del Rio (San Luis Potosí)
Rebozo worn fashionably on one shoulder. A workshop on the rebozo was held in Pátzcuaro while we were traveling, so I missed it.  But a friend who attended said participants were shown one hundred different ways to wear the rebozo.
Arguably the best-known and most expensive rebozos come from Santa Maria del Rio (San Luis Potosí), where craftsmanship is the order of the day. Weavers utilize a range of materials, including cotton, artisela and silk. Proximity to the gold and silver mines of San Luis Potosí gave easy access to gold and silver threads.
Rebozo from 1790, in silk with gold and silver (Santa Maria del Rio)
Still Curious?

As I wrote this blog, I came upon some beautiful photos and videos of weavers in a variety of regions around Mexico.

In Spanish, but don't let that discourage you. This 4:28 minute 'short' is my favorite.  It describes the 'de bolita' style of rebozo that originated in Tenancingo, State of México. Before the Spaniards arrived,  weavers had only cotton to work with, and the garments were mostly white. Today's 'de bolita' rebozos are woven only in cotton. It doesn't matter that I don't understand all the Spanish, because the footage of the weavers working at their looms and photos of rebozos worn in past centuries are powerful visual communications:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLK2JyoVSFw

In English: Tia Stephanie (Schneider) runs cultural tours throughout Mexico. She organized this one to explore the art of the rebozo. Her descriptions and photos are beautiful, useful:  http://tiastephanietours.com/blog/?tag=mexican-rebozo

In English:  In 2009 Tia Stephanie joined forces with anthropologist Marta Turok to organize a rebozo fair at Lake Chapala: http://www.focusonmexico.com/Mexican-Rebozos-Wonders-in-Weaving.html

In English: If you're curious about how the rebozo is ingeniously arranged to carry a child without knots, this 3-minute UTube video fills the bill:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLzk0dabHN0

In Spanish: This is the most comprehensive history of the rebozo that I have been able to find:  http://www.mexicolindoyquerido.com.mx/mexico/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=110:el-rebozo&catid=190:tradiciones-mexicanas&I

In Spanish:  This description of the art of the rebozo as practiced in San Luis Potosí is excellent:  http://www.angelfire.com/ok/Sanluis/rebozo.html

About bordado (embroidery) in Mexico:  Jenny's Journal post "Art and Friendship in Zirahuén, Michoacán" introduces the compelling crewel-embroidery art of Houston artist Debby Breckeen who, since 2009, has made her home in the community of Zirahuén, Michoacán, near Pátzcuaro.

About bordado in Zirahuén, Michoacán: In June 2011, Debby Breckeen began offering a class in crewel embroidery to the ladies of Zirahuén. Although proficient in the embroidery techniques of deshilado ('Pulled-Thread') and punta cruz ('Cross-Stitch'), the ladies weren't familiar with the crewel embroidery stitches that are Debby's art form.

Jenny's Journal post "The Art of the Zirahuén Ladies Sewing Circle in Michoacán, México" tells the story of the group's first year and shows some of the ladies' work.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Maya Baktun 13 Ends December 21, 2012—Does It Spell Doomsday for All of Us?

I knew I'd be writing this blog sooner or later. When this cartoon showed up yesterday on Facebook, it seemed the time had come.


What's going on?  

The pyramid and palm trees in the background suggest the Yucatán Peninsula of southern Mexico, the land of the Maya. The artisan is holding a so-called calendar stone.

The cartoon, of course, refers to the end of the Maya time period baktun 13, which will occur on December 21, 2012—and supposedly spells doomsday for all of us.

The humor in the cartoon is well taken and stands on its own. But the cartoon is based on a number of misconceptions that present a unique teaching moment that can't be passed up—so here goes!

Live links take you to other relevant Blogs and Pages in Jenny's Journal.

Aztec Cosmovision: Stone of the Five Suns

First, the 'calendar stone' depicted is not Maya. It was created by the Méxica (Aztecs) on the High Plateau in the center of Mexico some time around 1400 A.D.—five hundred years after the Maya civilization had gone into decline and its cities were abandoned (cerca 900 A.D.)

Next, the 'calendar stone' is not a calendar at all.  It depicts the Méxica conception of the cosmic order—the Aztec cosmovision. In the Méxica creation myth, it took the gods five tries before they succeeded in making creatures who could speak and hence were able to give appropriate praise to their creators.

The five worlds were called 'suns' and were named for the force that destroyed them:  Jaguar, Wind, Fire, Water, Sun.  The fifth sun was created after the gods made the ancestors of the Méxica and their life-sustaining maíz (corn). Thus, a more appropriate name for this ancient carved stone is 'stone of the five suns'. (See Jenny's Page:  Aztec: Cosmovision: Stone of the Five Suns.)

Mesoamerican Calendars

Finally, Mesoamerican civilization actually developed three calendars—two of which were cyclical.

Solar Calendar:  This 365-day calendar—virtually identical to our Gregorian calendar but without leap year—organized the agricultural cycle of planting and harvest. It was composed of 18 periods ("months") of 20 days, with five days added at the end to match the solar cycle.

Divinatory Calendar:  This 260-day calendar was used to foresee the course of an individual's life and the outcome of actions. The rotating combination of one of 20 names—each associated with a god—with a number from one to thirteen, determined the balance of good and evil forces for the day and, thus, the quality of the outcome of any event occurring on that day, including the birth of each individual and, hence, his or her destiny.

Long Count Calendar: This third calendar, created by the Maya, was linear and used to date events, particularly the actions of kings.  It is now called the Long Count calendar because it marks the sequential passage of  historical time.

Deciphering ancient glyphic inscriptions, scholars have analyzed how this Long Count calendar worked. They can accurately correlate Long Count dates with equivalent dates in our Gregorian calendar, so we can know the specific date on our calendar when a Mayan king was born, ascended the throne, married, fought an important battle and died.

For example, we now know that Pakal, the most famous king of the city-state Palenque, was born March 23, 603 A.D. and died August 28, 683 A.D. at the age of eighty. However, each of these dates in the Long Count is recorded as a sequence of five numbers. For Pakal, the arabic numeral equivalents are 9.8.9.13.0 and 9.12.11.5.18. What do these five numbers mean?

The Gregorian calendar numbers our years counting backward and forward from the historically and culturally significant event of the presumed birth year of Jesus Christ. Similarly, Maya times were numbered from a date endowed with religious and cosmic significance: the creation date of the present world order, Aug. 11, 3114 B.C.  Yes—you read the date correctly:  3114 B.C.!

In structure and time frame, the Maya Long Count calendar is similar to the Jewish calendar, which also measures history from a presumed date of creation. The Jewish year 5772 began at sunset on 28 September 2011. Adding the 2,011 years A.D. to the B.C. Maya date gives 5125 years since the Maya creation date—remarkably, there is a mere 650 years difference between the Jewish and Maya Long Count calendars across 5,000 years. All dates in the Long Count measure time from this date of creation.

Maya Calendar Units

The Maya did not have our decimal system of units of ten, represented by ten Arabic numerals. Instead, Maya calendar units are organized in multiples of 20. To represent these numbers, the Maya used:
  • Dots to represented the numbers 1 to 4;
  • A bar to represent the numeral  5;
  • Sets of bars to represent sets of 5 up to the quantity 15; 
  • A symbol of a shell to represent '0', which marked the completion of a set; that is, a full set of any unit of 20.  
Food for Thought:  The concept of zero has taken place only twice in history—once in India, among the Hindus, and once in Mesoamerica, among the Maya (Source: The Gods and Symbols of Ancient Mexico and the Maya by Mary Miller and Karl Taube). 

In the center glyph, the three (stacked) dots and three (vertical) bars represent the number 18.
The units of time in the Long Count are as follows, in units of 20 with one exception (Tun):
  • Kin is a day;
  • Uinal is a month-like unit of 20 kins;
  • Tun is a year of 18 uinals, making a year of 360 days; the five extra days of the solar year were not included in the Long Count;
  • Katun represented an interval of  20 tuns (a little short of 20 solar years);
  • Baktun represented an interval of 20 katuns (a little short of 400 years). 
Some ancient inscriptions provide an even larger unit, the pictun, which is composed of 20 baktuns (or about 8,000 years, close to our concept of the 1,000-year millenium).

So how do we read Pakal's Long Count numbers, 9.8.9.13.0 and 9.12.11.5.18? From left to right, the order is from the baktun down to the kin, the day. Thus, Pakal's birthdate in the Long Count is 9 baktuns, 8 katuns, 9 tuns, 13 uinals and 0 kins after the day of creation.

What is the Maya calendar about to do in its transition to baktun 14? 

On December 21, 2012, an event dated by the Maya, the Long Count will read 13.0.0.0.0—thus marking the beginning of baktun 14.

Confused? Remember that December 31, 1999, was the last day of the twentieth century—and January 1, 2000, was celebrated as the first day of the twenty-first century. Factoid Reed just reminded me that technically the twentieth century ended on December 31, 2000; January 1, 2001, marked the beginning of the twenty-first century. But you get the idea!

In our system, the century name is ahead of the hundred years marked on the calendar.  In a similar manner, the Long Count 13.0.0.0.0 represents the completion of baktun 13—the thirteenth 400-year period in Maya history—and marks the first day of baktun 14.

Time and history go on.

Still Curious? 

If you're still curious about December 21, 2012, you might enjoy reading an astronomer's engaging account: "The Great 2012 Doomsday Scare," by E. C. Krupp, Director of Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles. Here's the link: http://www.nasa.gov/topics/earth/features/2012-guest.html

Here's the link to Jenny's post based on translation of an interview with Mexican scholar Erik Velásquez García, who contends that the notion of the Maya prophecy is a 'Western' European idea completely unrelated to Maya culture:  http://jennysmexico.blogspot.com/2012/03/unam-researcher-debunks-maya-end-of.html